


The sense that thought can't find

by lulahbelle



Category: The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth (2011)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Dark fic, M/M, Poor Esca, Proper Roman Masters Using Their Slaves, dub con, non con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-25
Updated: 2012-10-25
Packaged: 2017-11-17 00:53:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/545718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lulahbelle/pseuds/lulahbelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Has your body ever wanted to have sex even when your will says no?"</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The sense that thought can't find

**Author's Note:**

> I began this about this time last year and I've finally finished it. *the applause of no one* Written for a kink meme prompt about Marcus 'using' Esca sexually and Esca growing to like it against his will.
> 
> ...
> 
> It's dark, horrible in fact, but perhaps not entirely unrealistic given the actual sex/class politics about during the Roman empire where slaves were seen as wholly sexually accessible to their masters.
> 
> I hope someone gets something out of it. I mean if no one wanted this fic there wouldn't be a kink meme prompt for it, right? That's without the dozens of similar enough prompts there. 
> 
> See how I've made it sound like I am doing some sort of public service with my horrible non/dub con porn.
> 
> I should add, thank you for your help poziomeczka.

Some winter mornings when Esca fetched Marcus' water he would stand for a time outdoors.

Cold wind lashing his face always blew his mind from the present and taking long, deep breaths he would close his eyes and allow himself to imagine he had the coming day to do with as he wished. He would think of day as it had once been spent. A hunt with the brothers of his tribe. A drowse in the dip of hills wrapped against the cold in animal skins sewn together by his mother, until the drizzle of the sky and the whooping of other young men woke him.

In these cruel, snatched, moments of memory, Esca felt so free. He would look to the dim white sky above the villa and the run of the land beyond it and feel no loyalty to the promise he had made, no honour, nothing but a painful jolt in his heart and a twitching in his calves that told him that he could run, that he should.

These were the moments he hated the most. For it was only ever a second of imagining freedom and elation in escape, before he also felt that he could never live with himself if he left Marcus. He had made a promise. Burden though it may now be, it was indecent and dishonorable to break your word. Impossible. Especially when you had sealed that word with your father's dagger as he had done.

These days when he felt most free, were also the days when he felt the most enslaved. When he saw that the chains and beatings that had tormented him on his way to the arena were nothing compared to these chains that he had now willingly placed upon himself.

All the same Esca was not one to be carried out to sea by a wave of self pity. Life was a hard toil, punishing for sure, but he knew that it was for all Britons since the Romans had come. He trusted truly that his own sufferings were right with the world and with the Gods, and in this mind went back inside to his master.

*

Esca had come to regret Marcus as the man he had bonded himself to.

Marcus was strong now. He sat up when Esca came to him and every morning, before he took his cup, stretched a hand over Esca's forearm in a stroke of friendly greeting that was just an inch too proprietary for Esca to believe it guided by benign affection.

Esca knew it was not brotherhood that Marcus extended but intent.

He could feel lust rising from the gesture like heat from the hearth.

Marcus' desire for him was strong, and transparent, unavoidable because it was so unashamed. 

His looks at Esca, entitled as they were, coming from a master to a slave, had been boldly fond from the start. In their first days, when all were convinced that Esca would escape, he was kept inside directly attending to Marcus who had spent large amounts of his day propped in bed, strong, tanned face turned in entire fixation on Esca's body as he engineered reasons for him to move around within his sight.

Esca had stared Marcus' lust out then. Made it as clear as he could without words that his attention was unwelcome. For that time this had sufficed, for Marcus, weakened by physical pain did not have the ability to take.

But Marcus had not remained that easily doubted creature for long. Now that the days after his surgery had elapsed into months he was strong and fit.

Esca would not give.

Whenever Marcus' touched him even in the minimal way he did, Esca felt his need pulse, claiming, owning him and it made him furious. He truly did not want to fuck with Marcus, could not allow himself to feel passion for the son of his enemy and was nothing but annoyed that Marcus might ever seriously think otherwise.

It was an intolerable position.

Despite being confined to looks and small touches, mostly passive in expression, Marcus' desires stole Esca's peace almost as forcibly as if he had already been fucked.

Esca was himself still young, with an intense, needy appetite for sex. In the absence of an appropriate channel he had great need to touch himself, but because Marcus' eyes were always upon him, staring invasively at his body with his own want in mind, he couldn't. He wouldn't, there was little privacy for a slave and he feared Marcus would catch him at it, and presume he touched himself over him. Or that Marcus would catch him in some other way, and when he rubbed himself, his mind, loose with the relaxation of finally settling an urge and without much other personal experience would plant Marcus, his body, his close stares of need, now always upon him, in his thoughts as stimulation to reach his peak.

Esca would die before he allowed himself to so willingly succumb, even in his mind.

So everyday his situation became more frustrating and his anger toward Marcus increased.

Forgive him as Esca did for being the son of his enemy given the fact that he had saved his life, Esca also hated him truly, as much as anyone could hate someone that they could not hate at all.

Whenever Marcus looked, with dewy eyes, over the delusion of submission he saw in him Esca wanted to strike him. He wanted to strike him even when he didn't look on him transfixed. Wanted to fight and bruise him, even as his heart also wanted to ensure he paid back the decency of his good deed with care and comfort to him.

Time wore on in entire hatred and frustration of his bind.

*

One evening Marcus disappeared to town. Esca could not say it was without relief that he saw him off, hoping he would work off his frustration there with women suited to his lusts.

*

When Esca saw Marcus the next morning, he knew his want was not sated, for his stare was impossibly heavier, weighing about his every move, this time meaning him a direct, explicit ill.

If Marcus had made a trip to a whore then Esca knew that she had merely wetted his appetite for more. Reminded him that his physical body and will, did and could work effectively against others. Perhaps his absence from fighting had made him forget before.

From the bed as he drank his water Marcus said, "Esca sit here with your tunic off."

Esca hesitated, stared, wondering if there were some way of distracting him from this final summit.

"Esca I am your master do as I say."

He did not shout. His voice was deeper, less desperate than that, commanding, as if Esca were a legion of men.

Esca raged at the despicable authority to Marcus' tone. That he should be so entirely confident of his superiority and charge, he who had spent long hours disabled, with his eyes either full of morose, childish resentment of his injury and the fate chosen for him by his God's, or else wet with longing for his slave's arse, irritated Esca.

There was no gratitude for the things Esca had suffered for him already in that tone of voice, only arrogance and the will to claim yet more from him.

Esca disrobed for him, but making it clear from his grudging expression and entirely limp prick that he took no enjoyment in it. He would call Marcus' bluff, sure that the Great Centurion's ego would not allow him to continue to press his lust in view of its subject's utter disinterest.

The whores from the night before would have been able to conceal their slavery with breathy noises and writhing, as a man Esca's coolness was so unavoidably obvious.

  
"I will not touch you," Marcus stated.

Esca was not surprised, and mentally berated Marcus for his cowardice, until he became aware that that felt disagreeably as if he wished Marcus did touch him.

"It is just this body of yours..." Marcus said, breathing labored, "It pains me to have to look at it without spending on it. I am your master, and you are here to attend to my needs, so I think I have the right to go about my day fulfilled." He said this calmly, as if it was a sense he had come to.

Esca saw how it was, and without much choice, resigned, slipped onto the cot that Marcus was half out of.

In all Esca was somewhat glad to be spoken of as an object for he had feared Marcus might be one of those strong warriors who reserved a share of softness for the bed. The type who dissolved into hideous, insincere romanticism and adoration when angling for a fuck.

Soft, kind protestations of love, the thought revolted Esca generally enough, but especially the thought of receiving them now.

If Esca was to be fucked, and he was now sure that short of leaving the house and betraying the bond of his father's dagger, he would be, it would be easier if it happened purely because of his body, if it was nothing personal. A manly, direct question of action and urge, not something borne of feelings, or trying to encroach awkwardly upon his soul or heart, or places where he truly could not bear for it to be.

When Marcus began to palm himself through his tunic before Esca, it nearly felt more beareable than his hours of dewy eyed contemplation had been.

"Lay on the bed beside me."

Esca did.

Marcus' eyes ranged over his nipples, his belly, then down over his prick still limp on his thigh. Esca breathed steady and cool, felt little besides longing for this to be over. Marcus handled his own prick fast and well, gasping for breath. Esca resisted the crackling aura of excitement around him.

"I want to lick the salt from your belly, then sink lower to taste you fully," Marcus said to him, words shivering, his breathing heavily aroused, eyes searching over Esca's face, as he stroked himself faster. At that Esca shuddered entirely without volition. He could not repel that thought, for there was surrender trapped in that image and contrary to what he had supposed it would be it was not his.

The belated realisation that it was his body that compelled, that on some level he might control this situation, filled him. He had power in Marcus' lust for him. It could perhaps be satisfying revenge to hurt and torment him with it. He removed that thought too, for it was dangerously close to some form of amusement in consent and he should not have that anywhere in his soul.

All the same he liked to hear Marcus lower himself with his words, would happily hear further, but he was not forthcoming. Instead, irritated by his prior vulnerability Marcus' mouth stilled but his hands moved faster, trying to purge himself of the desire.

He saw Esca cold beside him as a source of frustration and climbed over him, still in his tunic, his cock in his hand beneath the lower hem. Straddling Esca, his expression was questing and fiercesome all at once, totally locked to his face.

Esca looked away from him.

Marcus pulled his cock angrily above him, muttering curse words, eyes roving hungry over his flesh.

In no time he spent hard, over the flat muscles of Esca's chest.

"Clean this off."

Marcus said abruptly, of the mess he'd left on Esca's body, as if it was clear that his emission was Esca's fault entirely.

Esca raged as he reached down for his tunic to wipe it off.

"With your fingers."

Esca was puzzled, but needed to be away too much to care, so he did as he was told, slicking fingertips scooping in the glisten. He reached for his tunic again to wipe his fingers on it. Marcus stopped him, his eyes narrowed, breath panting in excitement.

"Clean them with your mouth."

It was a peculiar request but Esca just did so, collecting Marcus' spend in his mouth to spit away later. Not lingering any attention or disgust to the act, not wanting to unwittingly titillate. Enough so that he can say he did his duty and served his master's request and nothing more.

"You can go."

Marcus said, face downcast, apparently back to earth, finally noticing the sour wince of waiting to spit that Esca had on his face, and the desire to hit him that burnt in his eyes.

*

For all his size Marcus was a little boy. In the days that followed he sulked, barely sparing Esca a glance.

*

Then one night, just as Esca had grown used to his master's ignorance, he was woken by a noise.

There was no moon outside the high window in the room where he was kept and the darkness was so opaque that he was unable to see an inch ahead of him but he did not light the lamp. For in the hall beyond his uncurtained door he could see a point of held light, swinging, getting larger, approaching.

Marcus.

Now with knowledge of how it felt to be used, Esca seized on what he could do to avoid it again and decided to feign sleep. He hid his head in the scratch of his sheet. His breath quick, his heart thumping in enormous clumps against the bed. He felt like prey, was at once ashamed and resolved to sit up, to face whatever it was that Marcus wanted.

Marcus settled his lamp, the light flashed, stinging Esca's eyes. Then he lit Esca's lamp which washed the room uneasily warm with illumination.  
Marcus lay on inadvertent space beside Esca, then reached up and yanked him down. Then he buried the other hand under his tunic, settling roughly stimulating over his cock, which was half hard with the lingering lust of sleep.

Esca breathed sharp, like his shock might induce Marcus to leave him be, instead it stirred him.

"Take this off."

Esca did, felt the scratch of the bed at his shoulder as he resettled on his back without his tunic. Seeing his stiffness with his eyes as he had felt it with his hand Marcus asked hopeful, "Have you touched yourself?"

Esca ignored him but the question was not the only assault, for Marcus' fingers descended down Esca's cock to his balls.

"Are you injured? Can you spend?"

Esca had heard tales of slaves having them cut off, or damaged to keep them from running away, but he had never actually met a man who had it happen and it had to have been clear from sight that his own anatomy was complete, Marcus' question was nothing more than a contrived reason to grope him.

He continued to touch his balls attentively.

Esca's face was sullen, because he was pained by what was done to him, but when Marcus' hand strayed up over the shaft of his cock, tight with blood, and the frustration of weeks of dreams and non release as it was, heat flushed up under his skin.

"You are so unhappy," Marcus noted mournfully.

Esca was hit by heavy outrage at what he said but lay quietly, refusing to plead his case.

He would never beg someone and in any case he was no longer certain that Marcus had a soul to plead to. In fact Esca grew to think himself the biggest fool in the entire world for ever imagining that Marcus had a noble bone in his body. He had been bewitched, tricked into fabricating honour by Marcus' strong impersonation. For it seemed now like the only reason that Marcus had saved him was in order to subject him to these assaults.

His stomach clenched appalled by the man and awareness of his own idiocy in not running away from him several times over. In the responsibility he had felt to retrospectively earn what was now revealed to have been a self serving act.

All the while Marcus stroked him up and down slow. His touch was skilful. Esca wanted, felt his mouth pouting to suppress a deep, roiling moan.

"You don't want this?" Marcus gasped at him, hot stirred breath in that voice, "Surely you must feel how hard I have made your prick."

Esca grabbed to Marcus' arm in irritation. His first overt rebellion and attempt to betray his promise to serve but it fell again. He closed his eyes. Shuddered. It felt too good to be touched. Marcus stroked him so perfectly too, the right amount of weight, the right speed, it overwhelmed him, turned his every rebellious, hostile thought down. They would blare out loud later but for now they were mute.

Marcus was right he found himself thinking. He was so hard to his touch. Responsive. It was not Marcus' arrogance that needed to be fought, it was a fact. He was painfully erect. Quick it rose to full rigidity with a burn. It hurt too because he had been so firm on his stance that he could not allow arousal at what his owner did to him.

Esca whimpered, his want unleashed, unable to take it back through denial. Then he clenched inside at how needy his sounds were. Shame. He felt his whole body flaming with the intensity of it as it also burnt in excitement.

"That's it, you've no need to fight me, I've no wish but to cause you pleasure." Marcus soothed.

Esca disagreed furiously. He focused on a tensing of his body into a rigid regrouping of resistance but beneath such pleasing attentions found he could not hold to the strings of irritation. His breaths grew lighter. When he reached to his intense disagreement again it was gone. Laid low by lust. He lost control so easily when fucking. Too soothed by the satisfaction of his lower needs to contain mind or worry.

Heavy, low breaths and small grunts came from him.

Marcus kissed and licked long at his nipples as he stroked shallowly over the end of his cock and said to him in lovelorn whispers, "Such a beautiful body."

Esca shivered with each lick to the oversensitised flesh, his cock throbbing until he came over Marcus' hand.

He closed his eyes tightly because he would not see that Marcus had won.

Unobserved Marcus let his own cock off in his hand again whilst over him in a straddle. Stream atop Esca's stream.

*

Esca had long hours after to think on what had happened and he was not pleased with himself.

All the same his mind colluded once again with his body against his noble honour and he found that as he lay alone in bed that he wanted to touch himself with even greater strength than he had before Marcus had begun to use him.

Every breath was now hot and weighed by need.

He wondered to himself what kind of man would have such urge to touch themselves in the shadow of such unwilling service. His mind answered easily that one wouldn't, unless the service had been more willing than the servant wanted to admit.

This he knew to be his answer. Strong and powerful was the self disgust.

His thoughts otherwise were half naked flesh trying to tempt his hand down onto himself, and the rest a shuddering burning sorrow at his life and hatred for Marcus. His needs burnt him. He ignored them. The frustration of refusing them ripped him open. He stung all over to raw agony as he fell to sleep.

Propelled by fury, kept short by fear, it was a fitful rest at best and when Esca curled from his bad dreams he knew he was not alone in his chamber.

Awareness travelled slower than reflex, so he hadn't inclination to pretend continued sleep before his eyes opened.

Sure enough Marcus stood over him watching.

Without word, or gesture of protest, tired and eager to get over with whatever was wanted of him, Esca swung legs out from the cover and sat on the bed. Marcus took seat beside him, threw an arm around his shoulders and close there, nosed into his temple, softly, murmuring.

It was a lover's touch, one of affection, equality. Esca hated it and the lies its giver had to have told himself in order to have the audacity to give it. Regardless Marcus kissed his jaw quick, before turning in to take his mouth. He kissed there long and well too, full lips repeatedly playing over him. Esca kept himself admirably tense against this for some time, refusing alongside his token, duty bound, acceptance.

Marcus continued to work at him, paring him down to his want by flicking his tongue hot and seeking inside him.

Slow came a seep of joy. Esca's body pleased by his relentless attentions regardless of the fact that the pleasure was disloyal and offensive to his soul.

In time his hard stance fell away into a swarming arousal and just as his prick had helplessly hardened and emitted in bed the day before at Marcus' skilful hand, so now were his lips pushed pliant and parting by his kisses.

Expanding in Esca's surrender Marcus' kiss sped and strayed, licking over his cheek fast, wet and desperate as though his mouth could not have enough of his taste.

Marcus' eyes were closed as he proceeded and he looked so devoted to Esca, giving his slave his full focus as though he were worshiping him. All the while despite the tenderness that clearly reigned in his breast, Marcus' hand crept possessively and forcefully into Esca's hair, ready to drag his mouth back should he even try evasion.

So it was, that, readily held both by physical threat and ecstasy, Esca felt as if he could not free himself and did not even try anymore.

Marcus sucked kisses onto his passive neck, followed the shape of his throat, warm into the hollows, licking up over the curve of the hardness between. After some time of this, when Esca's neck was covered all over by his moist warmth, Marcus, rushing his words into kisses, said,

"I wish to suck you."

Esca's heart jolted hard in his body. He once more felt some concept of the power he might have over this man and this time felt it free of his refusal.

Marcus looked to him for a short time, eyes lit with sorrow but his breath helplessly excited, watching his reaction. Then, as if pleased enough, he stood at once and shed his tunic. This time he made no call for Esca to do likewise.

Esca just sat on the bed edge and looked on as Marcus knelt down before him.

His bare shoulders broad and powerful were richly tanned and flecked by freckles. His waist was small and firm above scanty white subligaculum. He was perfectly formed, attractive, commanding. And in this state, undressed, knelt, he also put his head down as though he were displaying submission. He moved closer, until the smooth swells of his chest rested against Esca's shins. As Esca regarded him confused, he reached out to touch up over his thigh. Up under his tunic hem went his hands. There he took hold of the neglected flesh of Esca's cock direct, brought his mouth to face it and began to suckle on it whoreishly, mouth pulling insistently, working hard to engorge it.

For such a man, in all his handsomeness and physical finery, with all his supposed superiority and mastery to just reach down and do such a thing to him lost Esca's last resolve. He was helplessly wanting. The room around him felt like a dream, the bed under his thighs felt unsteady and absent, like clouds, as he was welcomed into him.

Marcus continued to mouth him in a wanton way, so greedy. His need no longer arrogant and forcing, but trying to seduce, protesting, trying to convince of it's virtue, it's worth.

Esca had long known his filling cock was a thing apart from his will which held a decent resistance against Marcus, but now it seemed his will was falling too, for all he could care for was how desperate his master seemed to have him and all he felt was how that pleased him.

Marcus filled his white hot mouth with wet cock again and again, letting Esca edge his hips forwards to get inside him deeper and deeper. With no choice but to escalate their connection, Esca took his skull hard in his hands and thrust into him, using him.

Lipping more of his cock back, panting tense and short through his nose, Marcus pulled back then begged of him, distressed.

"Spend on me."

Aware from the burning joy in his balls that he had to spend somewhere, Esca did, letting streams of white go all over his master's burning red cheek and in a stripe up his taut throat.

There, on his knees, spattered with his seed, Marcus whispered, "Thank you."

It was so breathy, it's sentiment so improbable, that Esca felt sure he had misheard him, until again he said firmer.

"Thank you."

  
Marcus rose quick to his feet again then. His hand went straight down between his legs and Esca saw his cock had grown so large from his sucking that it had angled its way out of his loin cloth.

Dizzy with leftover arousal it was not so much shame as it once would have been for Esca when Marcus brought it off in his hand whilst stood over him, instead it made his deeply heated blood simmer.

There Marcus began to slip into two beings in Esca's mind.

As Marcus turned out of the chamber again ignoring him, head downwards, expression downcast, all Esca could think was how soon he might come again.

He felt a pang of mourning for his days of anger and longing for freedom, his once ago honour and dignity but he felt helplessly caught too, as though all of himself, his veins, his flesh and very soul were enmeshed in his trap.

If his existence was to be otherwise miserable and without honour, perhaps, he thought, he may as well take whatever joy he could from it.

*

As Esca attended to his regular duties about the villa Marcus stared at him solidly, annoyed by the knowledge of his own weakness. Tension got tighter and tighter without resolution. Until the dark hallway to Esca's room was once again disgraced by a dot of winding lamp light.

Esca turned from the door.

All too soon he could hear Marcus, regardless, stood over him, removing his tunic in an impatient thrash.

Esca's heart pumped hard. Decency beaten back by desire as much for him as for his master above him.

"Slave."

Esca felt like he was stranded on thin ground stretched above a precipice, any movement required a fall, so he stayed still.  
Marcus stroked a rough hand to his cheek like a swipe, then pressed his cock directly at his lips.

"Slave?" He asked again before smoothing the tip of his cock against his lips, attempting to tempt.

Esca just stayed quiet, unmoving, inhaling the musk of need, absorbing the warmth of it, flushing his cheek.

His breath against it distressed Marcus.

"Please, please," he whispered.

The shiver of want warping his voice was much too intense. It sent companion feeling flaring all through Esca, centering, stomach to hardening length. Yoked to empty pleasure Esca moaned and opened his mouth, giving in to want, letting Marcus' cock invade him.

Marcus' fingers, mostly nail, dug into the bones of his jaw, stinging.

Esca sucked the head, got some comfort from finally seizing the worst thing he could imagine. The relief was shortlived, for at once found it unpleasant, its thick salt not a taste he liked, its engorged texture, reeking of sex and bouncing the candle light off its moisture, not anything he could imagine growing to enjoy to rub his mouth against.

Yes their need was mutual and great, no longer could Esca avoid it, but he could avoid the worst of the humiliation by refusing to submit to use that he did not enjoy.

He lifted his hand, swiped Marcus' cock away from his lips, then quickly sat up to do likewise to his grip on his jaw.

A black shadow blocking the candlelight, Marcus loomed over him, breathing in frustrated pants, threatening.

Frantic, before he was forced again, Esca stood up at once. Squaring his shoulders and puffing his breast, he stared upwards into Marcus' eyes as he stood tall above him.

There was so much fear and torment there.

He was a child.

Then with witlessly slow realisation, Esca realised Marcus was even less than that, Marcus was an animal. His actions were born of lust, base urge.  
Marcus had not intended to humiliate or shame Esca, just to be satisfied by his body.

At that Esca pushed him solidly on the cot, onto his back.

For a second he was concerned he would suffer for doing it. Grew scared at what he had done, regretful. Then he remembered that nothing done to him in punishment of it could match the revulsion he felt at his own deep need to do it. Even if they killed him he should not suffer more than he did in the knowledge of his desire to fuck this man to ruins, this enemy, his defiler, who he should not even want to look at.

Repelled in his half hearted dominance and clipped onto his back, legs spread to be had in rut as one might have a whore, Marcus stayed on his back, sighing and stroking his excited phallus through his tunic.

  
Esca knew had stumbled upon what Marcus had always really wanted but been too much the unpenetrable Roman to ask for.

All Esca felt in the seat of his soul was a disgust that made him want to punish Marcus for his lust.

With nothing left by way of fear or forbiddance, only thick, furious excitement, Esca leant in and spat in his hand rubbing his prick, then holding it sought Marcus' hole, it spread wide open between his thick, held apart thighs, but still so tiny, dark in the dark. He pushed into it and it grabbed his prick hard. Pushing on, then sinking into this snap, he was saluted by the most high bliss he had ever known and the most tremendous groan he had ever heard from his master.

He drove his hips in, pulled out, then sank in again and repeated this movement as the raw ecstasy of it climbed and spread through his whole body.

Beneath him Marcus groaned in response to each thrust and pushed his face into his arm for shame. At his pain or his pleasure Esca had not the slightest concern, feeling only great joy at the thought that he would soon spill his seed whilst tainting his enemy.

The more violence done to Marcus the more he responded. His firm, broad, warriors body opening, submitting, to his slave's cock.

"So tight." Esca groaned, more for himself than Marcus, but Marcus made a deep sound at it.

Marcus took firm hold of his cock then, which seemed, only momentarily, to have flagged from utter fullness and once his strokes filled up his own need once more, he began to beg, gasping, as if it were the pulse of his last nerve.

"Oh please fuck me. Please, please."

His weak need made Esca grow larger, he had speared him hard and relentless from the start and now did so harder, until every particle of rage inside him was used up.

As his feelings began to trickle warmly for the sight of Marcus' slack pleasured face, he came, in a push of light, grunting, driving into him deep.

As he withdrew he brought some of his moisture from his master's hole to his thighs.

Marcus panting, legs still spread, hole still open, rushed his hand up and down his cock until it splashed thick and white again and again, in huge jets coating his flat belly.

Marcus did not leave when he was satiated, so Esca got up from his bed instead, revolted by the thought of staying there and listening to the stilling peace of his master's drowsy breath, or smelling their mutual sweat and sex as he curled into sleep.

He went outside as the dark clouds were lit lighter and lighter by dawn and walked to where he could watch the waters flow, replacing all memory of his disgrace with blessed memories of childhood, memorable hunts, things his father and mother had said to him, the legend and rumour of his people.

*

Marcus was not there when he returned, so he took to his bed.

Marcus did not return all day either. It was horrible that his absence caused an itch of wonder in Esca about where he was but that was true nonetheless.

Esca told himself that he had loved fucking his arse enough to hope he might get to do it again and though this thought disgraced him too he no longer saw the point to shield himself from all dishonour.

*

Hands fell on his face, pattering cold over his neck to pull him to wake.

"You are the finest, most beautiful, glorious thing," Marcus said, slurring his words, leaning over to spill them into Esca's ear.

His breath, sweetened by recent honeyed wine, smelt pleasant to Esca in his sleep muddled state. He expected him to lean down and kiss him but there he stayed above, his intoxication not working as it did in other men to make him push forth but to hold back instead.

A slow ache started low in Esca, creeping lower. He wanted to be kissed, to be engulfed by this presence above him, so he craned his head up, presenting his mouth to be taken. Marcus responded, plunging a thick lip between Esca's for him to suckle at, suckling his in turn.

Marcus pulled away with a gasp clearly taken to erection by it. He stood stripping his tunic off, then sat on the bed near Esca's feet to take off his sandals. Naked, with his head down almost in ritual sacrifice, as before, he said.

"I want to pleasure you. I will do anything you want."

"You would suck?"

Marcus nodded and slid onto the floor and though he moved with the same smoothness it was different this time, for whilst Esca spilled over Marcus' handsome face and into his full mouth, Marcus ended himself into his hand and up his belly whilst still down on his knees.

There was less defeat in the act to Esca and in the spirit of pure release this time he fell off into his dreams with no will of his own.

*

Esca woke with white light glowing all around him. The cold sharpness of a knife blade was held, inches from slicing across his neck. Marcus leant over him, holding the weapon tight against him.

"You tell a soul of this and I will kill you," He growled.

"You think I am scared of death Roman? Did I look scared of it in the arena."

Marcus laughed, little more than a savage grunt.

"I once thought I was not scared of death either, trust that it is a different thing that appears in your breast when your world turns entirely dark," Marcus said, pressing the point of the knife harder, stinging, into his flesh.

Esca disagreed, his head was empty - he felt like he did that day in the Arena, like death would only end his dishonour on earth.

"I am not afraid."

"You will not speak of this." Marcus said, and he sounded afraid himself, Esca understood why. What had been happening between them, a slave using his body against his master, was something considered disgusting by alot of people. Esca could easily bring Marcus to ridicule if he spoke out, even if just amongst the slaves.

Marcus was here because he was at pains to prevent people from knowing he was an effeminate man, a cocksucker, who pleaded with slaves to reach their end in his arse.

They would laugh at him behind his back, it would shame him.

"Who do I have to tell?" Esca said, reluctantly reassuring him, "The only one who speaks to me here is you."

"But you would not tell of it if you were asked."

"You wish promises from me, me who you forced into your bed?"

"Force was only the start of the occasion, you may do as you like to me now, I like as you do."

"Choice is only expressed in what I do not have to do." Esca said harshly, pleased at how Marcus seemed to flinch at the sound of his voice, the force of the resentment within it.

Finally he was affected by all the things he had done even if only in some small regard.

Marcus withdrew and driven to feeling said.

"You do not need to do anything to me that you do not wish anymore," His voice was slow and small, as if he had hoped he might not have to say it. With his release Esca found himself release too.

"I will not tell."

It felt like a momentary peace had been caught between them where they were maybe equal. All the same the world beyond their current positions existed. The shame, the disgust, the fear of the inferior position were all still in Esca's breast and he was tormented by them still.

Everything he had been was so far from him when he said.

"You will be fucked again."

Marcus looked sickeningly raw and young as he nodded his handsome head slow and sad, yes.

"Lay back on the bed and spread your legs then, welcome me." Esca commanded, feeling himself icy cruel in his imitation of the ruthlessness Marcus brought to his voice when he had taken from him.

This Marcus did without pause or question.

So manly solid in the light of sobriety and day, he held a silent cry on his face when he was entered.

He was wet inside, slick, easy, clearly readied. Truly he wanted as Esca did.

His body was still the best tightness Esca had ever felt. Still a better ecstasy than he could have ever imagined for himself.

Marcus' face never moved from a seizure that suggested pain or protest, but his noises though small, were pleasured. Esca brought his lips to his, kissed those sounds and found to his pleasure that they were encouraged, unto the point where Marcus began to say, "I am your whore," repeated, breathless between the intrusions Esca's tongue made into him. Hands clinging to him to keep him fucking in, "I am your whore..."

A full feeling flowed all through Esca to hear it.

When Marcus spilled over his belly untouched at Esca's ownership of his arse he was finally only one person to his slave.

A lesser one.


End file.
